Kateen
by Ember Belli
Summary: Life can be daunting, especially when you suffer from torturous depression and body dysmorphic disorder. My name is Kateen, and I sincerely believe there is no true escape from my depressive fate. Can Underland, in all of its vastness, along with its corky, unstable inhabitants, truly teach me what it is like to heal, to live, to laugh, to love?
1. Tired of Being Here

Well, greetings, everyone! So, I've been on Fanfiction for a whopping eleven years! It's pretty obvious that Alice in Wonderland is my favorite thing to Fic about. I've always loved the story and Tim Burton's versions just won my heart. I feel so at home when I watch them. So, I give you, this beautiful story. This, literally, is a very, very personal version of myself ending up in Underland. Will it stick to the original plot? I'm not sure yet. But I promise you that I will make it as interesting as I possibly can. I don't think anything like this has ever been done before. Like I said, this story is going to get very personal with me. But I hope that some of you darling readers can connect with some of the issues I have, and that you come to realize that you are not alone. So, without further ado, allow me to take you into my life….

~ _I'm so tired of being here, suppressed by all my childish fears_ ~

 _*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*_

 _Thump._

 _Thump._

 _Thump._

It seemed that the only true sound I could focus on was the beating of my own heart. Sitting in my favorite Tudor-style armchair, ear pods in my ears, a copy of _Bucklands Book of Spirit Communication_ lying open across my lap, one could say that I was enjoying a quiet evening of reading and music.

Such was not true.

Thunder boomed outside the window I sat in front of, lightning flashed, and tears streamed slowly down my cheeks. Not a single sniffle escaped my nostrils; I had always been a silent crier.

I was hurting beyond no doubt. The pain was so deep that I was surprised that my heart could even beat properly. I felt lost, abandoned, unloved, alien, even.

It had been this way for as long as I could remember.

My days were spent forcibly pushing through long hours at a job that was often marked "not good enough," by my family. At work I wore a fake smile and used a faux voice, which was disturbingly more high-pitched than my regular drawling deep tone. I would work any shift I was asked to, even would take doubles. My coworkers and I would laugh and joke about perverted manners that were inappropriate to be joking about, but it lightened the mood and it made the days go by quicker. Anyone who saw me at work presumed me a happy young woman, galumphing about with her close-knit coworker family.

Until it was time to punch out.

No one cared after you punched out. No one laughed or made jokes, no one even hardly acknowledged me when I was off the clock.

My evenings were anything but easy. In fact, they were emotionally draining and often left me thinking about suicide. I had been raised in the home of my grandparents, who were both old-fashioned and, oddly, not close-knit at all. The three of us each went our own separate way when we all gathered at home after working hours, and the house became a depressing mixture of television noises, computers dinging and dogs click-clacking across the kitchen floor.

And I'd be in my room, in the total darkness, listening to whatever music didn't presume to annoy me at that time.

I wiped at my tears with the black sleeve of my oversized tunic hoodie and I sighed. A flash of lightning illuminated what the candle burning in my windowsill did not, and I sighed. I checked my iPhone screen. It was midnight. I pulled my pods from my ears and listened. My playlist had run-out over an hour ago, and I had been sulking with silent earphones in. I slammed _Bucklands_ closed and tossed it on the floor. Save the rolling thunder, the house was eerily quiet.

I knew that it was safe to sneak down to the first floor, so I did.

I had a bad habit of midnight snacking when I was down, and such a habit had caused me to grow into a lovely, curvaceous size twenty-two. I had always been big, been born that way, and a lifetime of shitty events, being abandoned by my parents and crushingly everlasting depression had caused me to grow not only in height, but in weight as well.

There were days that my weight bothered me to no end, and I'd purposely starve myself for the sake of my own satisfaction. And then there were the days that I somehow managed to strike up a small streak of confidence and I would flaunt myself under frilly dresses and wear dark eyeliner. It truly depended on the day with me.

But on this night, I dug in the freezer until I found my favorite cherry ice cream. I flipped the top off, sunk a spoon in, and shoved a huge mouthful in, not giving a single shit about what anyone- or my own thoughts, for that matter- thought of my size.

The ice cream was beyond delicious, and I swear that it could silence my inner demons with every bite. I was enjoying it thoroughly until the all-too-familiar feeling of being unworthy due to my size began to creep up on me, and I tossed the half-full container angrily into the garbage.

 _You're too fat, Kateen, no one is ever going to love you._

"Fuck you!" I hissed, quietly, so as to not wake my grandparents. I violently whipped my spoon into the sink.

Tears escaping my eyes once again, I moved to the bathroom.

I slid out of my clothing, and did my best to avoid the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door, for my own naked reflection often set the voices in my head off, and I went to the shower and turned on the shower head. The water began to pour out and soon the bathroom was full of hot steam. I pulled the hairband from my dyed hair, and whipped my head, causing the frizzy mess to scatter about my shoulders.

Like midnight snacking, one a.m. showers was among the things that kept me distracted from all the horrible things my mind said to me. It was also a plus because I could cry in the shower and no one would notice.

The hotness of the water was beyond welcomed on my cold skin, and it bestowed a soothing effect over me almost immediately. I felt every cell in my body relax and soon, I felt as if nothing could bother me. I was untouchable, relaxed, suppressed, and content.

The bathroom door then creaked slowly, causing me to jump. My head was full of shampoo, my fingers entwined in the half-dead tendrils, and the steam was so thick it was like a layer of fog that settled over the bathroom. I paused.

"Hello?" I asked aloud.

No answer.

Either one of my grandparents would have answered me.

Suddenly, without any forewarning, the bulky head of my white German shepherd, Mystic, peered around the corner of the walk-in shower. Her mouth was open and she was panting.

"Oh," I scoffed. "Mystic, you scared mommy," I told her. I sighed again. "I'm sorry, baby, did I wake you up?"

Almost as if she could understand me, she curled her body up and lay down in front of the shower.

 _If that would have been a burglar, you would have died because your fat ass can't run._

I punched a fist to the side of the shower. "Shut the fuck up, no one asked you!"

The voices could come out anywhere, and at any given time. They had always been there, and there were many times in my life that I had been able to suppress them, but, as I grew into the adult world and started my job, I was unable to escape them.

No one understood me. Or, that's how I felt, at least. I had tried to explain what it was like having a voice telling you all these horrible things to my grandparents, but they hadn't understood, and had claimed that "I had power over my own mind." I had given up long ago on trying getting them to understand me.

Ignoring the internal comment, I finished shampooing my hair.

I was just about to reach for the faucet handle when something really peculiar happened. The stone floor of the shower began to rumble, Mystic's head shot up from the floor, and all of the steam that lingered in the bathroom gave a loud _whoosh_ and sunk to the floor.

Mystic then got to her feet and let out the most aggressive snarl I had ever heard.

I may had been deeply spiritual, and I may had been living life as a practicing pagan, but of all the experiences I had with spirits, nothing matched this.

I quickly turned the water off, and grabbed my large towel. I tied it around me as Mystic bound from the bathroom.

"Mystic?" I asked.

I stepped into the living room to meet the eerie dead silence of a sleeping household. I quirked a brow curiously. Around the corner, I heard Mystic's nails clatter across the kitchen floor, and she let out another deep growl. I hurriedly wiped my feet on the carpet, to assure that I wouldn't slip in the kitchen, and I half-jogged to my dog.

Mystic was standing at the door to the cellar, her tail erect, teeth bearing, and her hair standing up on the back of her neck. I literally had never seen my dog so pissed off at something.

Impulsively, I whipped open the cellar door and Mystic took no time to bind down the stairs into the darkness. I wasn't afraid of the dark, I welcomed it, actually, so I immediately followed her, taking no time to think twice about it. She was barking fully by the time I reached the bottom of the steps.

Our cellar was sectioned off into two rooms. The first room was full of our odds and ends, coolers, extra shelving, tents, furniture, fishing equipment, our faux Christmas tree, and the large chest freezer that we always kept stocked in case of emergencies. Mystic was not in this room.

She was in the other room, which was much larger than the first. That room had ceiling-high shelves full of totes which I had not a damn clue what was in them.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw Mystic's figure at the back of the room. She was snarling deeply and was braced to attack at any given moment. I thought at first she had seen a spirit, for our house had been built in 1860 and had seen many deaths, but a spirit proved not to be the case whatsoever.

In the pitch black, my vision caught something florescent green. I gasped. A glowing smoke, like substance then began to travel outward from a dark, circular point in the center, and the room came alive in green light. Mystic backed away slowly, refusing to let down her guard. Soon my eyes were afire and I began to make out figures dancing about the smoke. Not quite sure how to react, I stood as I was, clutching to the door to the room. The smoke then dispersed more, and began to just exist and didn't move an inch. It began to swirl around a black hole in the floor as if it were a whirlpool.

"Mystic," I said to my dog. "Come," I beckoned.

Mystic gave no way and remained in her stance.

I felt the air become hazy and a sudden chill spread up what bare skin of mine was showing.

It was like I was trapped within a dream all of a sudden. I felt this urge to inch forward, which I did. I lost all control of my body, and soon, my bare feet stepped right into the fluorescent smoke, which danced up my legs and swirled around me in a pattern. Mystic's barks were so loud now that they became indistinct.

Pulling.

That's what I felt, a strong, pulling force.

I could not turn away.

Step-by-step I made way to the center point of the smoky ongoing.

It was there, in the middle, that I felt my feet lose their sureness, and the entirety of my body sunk downward, sending me plummeting into the blackness.


	2. Chaos of the Mind

~Chaos in the brain, let my blood flow, Make my blood flow ~

*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*

I was completely and utterly unaware of how to properly react as I plummeted at lightning speeds. My limbs flailed every which way, and it occurred to me that whatever I had stepped into, was something that could not have possibly been real. My soaking wet hair flew into my face and clung to my chubby cheeks. I opened my mouth and began to scream as loudly as I could manage.

My body was tossed wildly about, swerving in every direction, flipping over itself, even somersaulting, and, much to my surprise, my towel did not shake loose from my body, it remained in place and kept me covered.

The pressure seemed to press down on my body heavily, and I could feel soreness arise in all my joints.

"What the fuck!?" I yelled out.

What had I fallen into? The glowing pits of hell?

I had read many stories of astral projection and out-of-body-experiences, which, in very few, the person ended up getting lost on the astral planes and were unable to return to their body, resulting in their death. I had never experienced a true O.B.E, nor an astral travel, but I guessed that what was happening was similar; something completely surreal.

Determined, I used my weight to my advantage, and I tossed my torso forward, causing my feet to fly above my head. My hair whipped away from my face, and rock-like walls of a deep, vertical cave. As I traveled deeper, my eyes found themselves on glowing lanterns that plastered the walls. I also took wind of a bookshelf, a piano and a table, which, how these items were falling, yet I did not whack into them, I had no real fucking clue.

I was scared shitless, to be perfectly honest.

My weight was then tumbled heavily down onto a large four-poster bed that was propped on the side of the cave. I hit it hard, somersaulted over myself again, and managed to throw my weight around to where I could see where I was falling.

The last thing I saw was black and white tiled floor before I smacked face-first into it.

I cried out as my body hit hard.

Pain shot through my face.

I laid there a good ten minutes before I managed to peel myself from the floor. Once on my feet, I looked skyward. Why, there was no hole present, just a ceiling to a regular tiled room. Confused, I punched a solid oak table I found.

"Some out-of-body-experience," I muttered.

I then felt thankful that Mystic had not followed me, for the fall alone would have surely killed her, and she was my only sanity I had at home.

I was a mixture of emotions on the inside. I wanted to scream, to cry, and to punch things wildly, as I always did when I felt trapped or confused. But, alas, no tears sprang, my anger didn't bubble and I just stood, idly, with my fist against the hard surface of the oaken table. Drawing in breaths, I allowed my eyes to wander.

I was standing in the center of a giant circular room. Beside the table I was leaning on, there was a settee with an immense painting of a garden hung above it. There were candelabrums attached to the walls, the firelight danced about the room, encasing only half of it purely. It gave the essence of being in an old period film, and I felt completely out of place.

My eyes then caught a bundle on the settee.

I was pretty sure that the bundle had not been there a minute previous. I wandered over to it, took hold of it, and discovered a tag hanging off of it.

 ** _Wear Me._**

I unfurled the bundle, cussing as I did, to come to discover that it was a long, flowy plum-colored dress. It was huge, and it looked too big, even for me, and that was saying something.

I quickly searched the room for any signs of mirrors, cameras, or even peep-holes.

Presuming it was safe, I flung the skirt of the dress in the air. As it came down, I whipped the towel from my figure, and threw my arms upward, allowing the dress to slide down over my naked figure, the sleeves sinking up to my forearms, the collar slipping down over my head. Finally, the skirt draped around my feet, encasing them in a sea of bright plum.

"Well, I guess I can't get any better," I said aloud.

 _That's not a dress, it's a fucking circus tent, you fat ass!_

"Piss off!" I hissed.

The dress was indeed much too big for me, as the waistline sagged on me. I couldn't help but smile slightly. They actually made clothes that were bigger than me!

I then began to search the room. Whatever kind of out-of-body-experience this was, it sure was a trippy one. It took me over an hour and four thorough investigations of the tiled room to discover that there was a doorway that blended into the wall perfectly. I had to run my hands over the wallpaper to discover that there was a crack between the board, which, when pushed on, opened.

The door led me outside, and into the brightest day I had ever seen. The sun rays pierced my vision the moment I strode out, and I put a hand up to shield my eyes. I hadn't recalled a sun so bright in such a long while back home.

Grass.

There was bright, vivid green grass. I was standing on a stone path that led forward into the biggest garden I had ever seen. Flowers of every size, and every vibrant color were spread everywhere. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen in my entire life, and in my life, beautiful things were few, far and in between. I small feeling of excitement came over me, and for a few moments I forgot all about my inner voices.

I was flabbergastingly stroking the petal of a bright blue rose, when a deep laugh rang out.

Gasping, I turned my back to the rose and peered down the path.

The laugh sounded again. It was deep and manly.

"So, you have come," said a voice.

I scanned the garden worriedly.

"I'm here, girl," the voice insisted.

"I can't see you," I torted.

"Come. Closer."

The apprehension from my anxiety began to build at the top of my skull, creating a pressing feeling on my forehead. Had I been back home, I would have never trusted a random voice that came out from nowhere. Part of me wanted to trust the mysterious voice, and the other parts of me were screaming for me to run for the hills. Obediently, I strode, taking each step slowly, following the beckoning voice. It led me underneath a tree that condoned leaves the size of umbrellas and I actually had to duck under the things to get a plain view.

Perched atop the biggest mushroom I had ever seen, was a sizeable blue caterpillar. He had a monocle over his left eye and was taking hits off of a hookah. It was the strangest goddamned thing I had ever seen. For a moment I began to question if I had actually been in the shower back home, or if I was really at some grunge party knocked the fuck out on psychedelics.

"Ah. There you are," commented the caterpillar.

"I'm sorry," I said. "But do I know you?"

The pudgy blue creature took another swig of hookah and blew the smoke right on me. I coughed and waved the smoke away. "Not hardly," he replied. "Although, you should. The name's Absolum."

I swallowed. "Kateen. Although, everyone calls me 'Kate'."

The caterpillar's brows furrowed. "But which do _you_ prefer?"

"Kateen, I guess."

" _Kateen_ it is," he replied flatly. "You will find that second-guessing yourself will not aid you here."

I wanted so badly to be back home in my bed, snuggled up with Mystic. But, no, I was trapped in this… dream?

I'm sure Absolum thought quite a sight, for my uncombed hair was beginning to dry and I was more than absolute that I had curls springing all over the place on my head, not to mention I was wearing a dress that was much too big for me.

Then again, he was a talking caterpillar, and I bet he had seemed some extraordinary things in his lifetime.

"Where exactly is _here_?" I asked, trying not to press to heavily on the matter.

Instead of the answer I anticipated, Absolum hit his hookah again, and with such gusto. He then began to exhale this thick smoke and began to laugh hysterically. The smoke swirled in my face, causing me to cough on it again, and I waved my hands over my face to clear it. His laughter seemed to boom even louder, and, then, as the smoke cleared, Absolum was gone.

"Hey!" I called. "Wait! Absolum? There are questions I need answered!"

"Then go an answer them!" Absolum's voice boomed over the silence of the garden.

Then he was gone.

I stood silently in the garden, crickets echoing in the distance. I shook my head, and went back to the main path. I lifted the edge of my skirts and held onto them so I wouldn't trip as I walked along. I took the stone path throughout the remainder of the garden, and to my dismay did not meet another creature.

Where was this bizarre place? It surely had a name!

After walking for a good half-an-hour, I stopped at the top of a small hill to catch my breath. My weight hardly ever got in the way of walking long distances, why, back home I could walk the mall for hours on end and never get tired. But here, in this strange land, where I had no footwear, and the path was hilly and twisty, I was getting a full-blown workout.

How peculiar. You'd think that you wouldn't be able to feel tiredness in dreams.

I caught my breath up, and ignored any nasty comments from the pits of my mind, and I ran my hands down the front of my dress.

From the top of the small hill, I could see a vast horizon of rolling hills and thick forests. Way off in the distance- I guessed about one hundred miles off- I could see the small figures of a mountain range. The sun was beginning to creep down toward the horizon, and its rays reflected off the outlines of the landscape, making it appear extremely colorful. It was without a doubt a breathtaking sight.

This had to be a pigment of my imagination, for it seemed far too beauteous a place to exist. My imagination normally was full of dark and gruesome things, however. I began to wonder if I truly could think up something as vast and rich as the wilderness before me.

I may not have known where this place was, what it was called, or where it had come from, but all I knew was I would try and enjoy the existence of such a place for the time being.


	3. You think I'm Gone

~You think I'm crazy, you think I'm gone~

*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*

I walked on for hours, hoping to find some sort of decent shelter before nightfall, because it appeared that I would be staying the night here. The stone path eventually turned into dirt and the rolling fields began to feed into a thick forest. I had not run into any other living creatures since Absolum, and I began to think that odd, for a land as big as this land was, there had to be other animals, and perhaps some humans.

Keeping my hopes about me, I trudged on, pacing myself so as to not tire myself out.

The forest enveloped me in a thick layer of trees that were twisted at the trunk, and the branches all bent and spiraled. Some trees had leaves, some didn't and some had huge oddly-shaped fruits. I began to grow hungry and the fruits proved to be quite a temptation for me. My eyes caught a bright green squishy thing that resembled a tomato, and I reached for it. I had starved myself the previous day, save for the little bit of cherry ice cream I had eaten, and my body was demanding nourishment.

As I reached for the green tomato, hunger growing heavily and showing in my eyes, I paused.

"I shouldn't," I told myself aloud. "I don't know where the fuck I even am, and these could be poisonous. Better to ask someone."

Then I scanned my surroundings. Nothing but trees and bushes; not a single movement anywhere. With what little willpower I possessed, I pretty much told my hunger to fuck off, and I abandoned the fruit trees by jogging off from them.

I wondered if my grandparents knew that I was gone. They were two of the most unpredictable human beings I had ever met, and it was extremely difficult to even muster what they would do in certain situations. For a married couple, they were so much unlike one another that it was awkward. I loved them, there was no doubt about that, but there were a lot of times that I hadn't liked them, simply because they didn't try hard enough to understand me and my illness.

Pushing aside whatever wonders I had, I took a zig-zag in the path, which looped around a tree with the largest trunk I had ever seen. By this time dark was upon the land, and I was having a hard time seeing off in the distance.

"Why, hello," came a voice.

I stopped instantly. Okay, that did not sound like Absolum at all. I clenched my skirt in my fist and my gaze wandered.

"Up here," chided the voice.

My eyes panned upward, and rested on a sizeable grinning cat, blue in color, eyes a bright caledon. He was lying across a branch, his grin welcoming and curious.

"Oh!" I squeaked impulsively. "Hello. I did not see you up there."

The cat gave a sound that was a mixture of a chuckle and a purr. "'Tis easy to miss me at times, I can assure you." Something unexplainable happened then, the cat began to levitate from the branch. He floated forward, and then sank to my eye-level. Grinning still, he whirled, and when he paused, all I could see was his piercing eyes and bearing smile. Why, he was invisible. I smiled and his figure faded back into view. "And you are?"

"Kate-," I paused, remembering that Absolum had declared me my full name, "- Kateen," I corrected.

"Chessur," the cat purred. "A pleasure, I'm sure."

Were all the talking animals in this place blue in color?

"Perhaps you can help me," I said.

Chessur levitated a tad higher, and began to scratch his claws into the trunk of the tree, as any cat back home would have done. "Depends on what you require," he replied swiftly. He then moved up the tree and flipped over backward, so his back paws were scratching the bark and his front end was levitating off the side of the trunk. Any resemblance to a normal cat had disappeared by now.

"What is this place?" I asked.

Chessur stopped kneading the tree and returned to my eye level. "You mean you don't know?" he asked.

I was growing tired and I was becoming a little irritable. "Well, if I knew, would I be asking?" I torted.

Chessur then shook his head. "They always are sending me the new ones," he muttered under his breath. "Tell you what, I'll take you to the Hare and the Hatter, but that's the end of it," he warned in a subtle way.

More people!

So I followed Chessur the levitating feline for miles through the dark forest. A small wind chill kicked up and soon I was holding myself for warmth, the dress I wore was a light fabric and hardly did me justice. But it was big on me, so it concealed the fact that I wasn't wearing a bra.

Chessur spoke not a single word to me as we traveled along; he remained completely silent, and often stopped and looked back to check on me. Sooner than I expected, we wove through some trees and strode out into an opening. I gasped as I took notice of the sun arising from the horizon, we had walked all night. Unless nighttime was sincerely shorter than back at home, then I would have to get used to it, for night had always been my escape from reality.

I found myself looking down into a small valley, where a rustic-looking wind mill sat, its turbine spinning gently in the breeze. Below the wind mill was a long table, dressed in five different colored table cloths. There were figures bouncing about the table, and I heard muffled voices. I looked at Chessur curiously.

"The Hare and the Hatter," was all he said, before making his way down into the valley.

Not quite used to meeting new creatures yet, I stuck close behind Chessur, my fingers worriedly rubbing against my palms. Considering that I had not slept in what seemed to be an entire day, my anxiety would be through the roof and I would have to take extra precaution in how I acted and reacted to situations.

As we neared the table, a brown hare wearing a blue jacket cocked his head curiously at me from his seat at the table. Across from him, a much smaller white mouse, clad in a small pink tunic, fell silent as it looked me over. Chessur greeted them, and then advanced to the very end of the table, where a large recliner chair was facing backward.

"Tarrant," said Chessur.

The chair then whirled to face the table, revealing a pale man with ridiculously orange hair. He was wearing a big top hat with a menagerie of colored hat pins stuck under the orange tassel, and a bowtie that unfolded itself when he smiled. He had a small gap between his front teeth and the whole appearance of him said "goofy" to me.

"This is Kateen," Chessur said to the man, gesturing to me. "She's a New."

The man gave a childish excited squeal and clapped his hands together. "Oh! I love the New Ones! They're so interesting and fun!"

 _There's nothing interesting about her, she's just a fat slob_ , hissed the voice in my head.

"Piss off, fucker!" I hissed under my breath.

My mutter had caused Chessur, the man and the mouse and hare to look at me curiously.

"Sorry," I said. "I was talking to the voices in my head. They get really loud sometimes."

The hare and the mouse then looked at one another with big grins, and before I knew it, they both burst out into a whooping laughter. It kind of bothered me a little.

The man, Tarrant, I think Chessur had said his name was, began to clap vigorously and his grin beamed. "You hear voices too? Oh goody! That's wonderful!"

Not ever having someone react excitedly over my sickness, I drew back and raised my eyebrows.

"Oh, Tarrant, what have you heard from Marmoreal?" Chessur asked, interrupting Tarrant's joy fit.

Tarrant straightened in his chair, ceased his giggling and reached for a cup of tea. "The White Queen's promises are beginning to take effect," he replied swiftly. He sipped his tea.

"And the bloody big head?" Chessur asked.

"Remains in exile," Tarrant replied. "We've had not a peep from her."

Chessur grinned serenely. "Good news, indeed." He then lowered himself into a seat, and the mouse pushed a cup of tea to him. Chessur then gave me a look of surprise. "Do forgive me; I have forgotten to introduce you properly." He held a paw out and nudged the tiny white mouse. "This is Mallymkun."

"'Ello!" Mallymkun cheered in the thickest British accent I had ever heard.

"That's Thackery," he cooed, patting the brown Hare.

Thackery had bulbous front teeth. He grinned in a crazy way, and he swiped an empty tea cup from the table. He then twitched his nose, drew back his paw, and hurled the tea cup at me, all while yelling: "YOU'RE LATE FOR TEA!"

"Duck!" hissed Tarrant.

I did so, and the tea cup soared over my head and smashed into a tree.

"He does that to all the New Ones," Tarrant assured me. "It simply means he likes you." He then stood from his seat and wandered right up to me. He looked me head-to-toe and grinned again. "And I'm Tarrant," he offered his hand to me and I shook it.

"We're all a shade of Mad here," Chessur purred at me from his place at the table.

"I think you'll fit right in," said Tarrant happily.

I began to feel confused. I had fallen into some kind of dimension in which the main habitual species was talking animals, and humans who seemed to be mental cases. I had to admit that I was rather enjoying myself, for I had always been a strong contender of odd things. If only I could truly tell if I was dreaming.

Did I think I would fit in?

Of course not!

I hardly doubted that any of the beings before me had voices in their heads that deemed them worthless pieces of shit.

The thought of not fitting in in such a crazily wonderful place saddened me a bit.

However, considering that I had no clue as to where I was, or what I was doing here, I gave a slight smile.

"Do forgive me, Tarrant," I said sweetly. Working in retail had taught me to hide my emotions well. "But, where exactly _is_ this place?"

Tarrant opened his arms. "This is Underland," he replied. He then broke out into a small squirmy dance, took hold of my hand, and gave it a hefty shake. "Welcome, welcome!" he cheered. "We're going to have so much fun!"

He then danced over to the table, picked up a tea cup and poured steaming tea from a silver tea pot into it. As his dance became more vigorous and odd, his body flailing in all directions, he got up on the tip of his toe, and whirled in a perfect circle. As he whirled, Thackery the hare tossed two sugar cubes in his general direction, and, even though he was amidst his whirl, the sugar cubes plopped perfectly down into the tea.

Thackery held up a small silver container. "Would you like some cream?" his thick Scottish brogue asked.

"Certainly," I replied, flashing the realest smile I could manage.

I then was seated at the tea table beside Mallymkun the mouse. The mouse was so small that in order to properly sit at the table, a small dollhouse chair was placed atop a stack of books, which rested on the chair of regular size. She reminded me a lot of Stuart Little. She took heavy interest in where I had come from, so, I took the liberty of explaining to the cluster of beings my run-in with the glowing black pit in the basement.

At the mention of the pit glowing fluorescent green, Tarrant's long, unruly eyebrows furrowed oddly. A look of deep unsureness crossed his pale face.

"You mean McTwisp didn't being you here?" he asked, not really directing the question at anyone.

I shook my head. "McTwisp? I don't even know who that is," I informed them.

Mallymkun and Thackery then gazed at one another, jaws agape. Chessur, who sat at the opposite end of the table, halted stirring his tea and stared at Tarrant.

"My, my," Tarrant mumbled. "This just won't do."

I began to feel anxiety build up inside me, so I sipped the delicious tea I had been served to calm my nerves. I gripped the tea cup tight and took a deep breath.

Everything at the table fell completely silent, and I began to mentally blame myself. I despised being the reason for causing silence, and I hated feeling awkward most of all. I scanned everyone's faces and they just sat idly; not hardly moving.

I couldn't help but wonder if I had said something completely and utterly wrong.


	4. Being On My Own

~I never minded being on my own~

*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*

I was unable to speak another word as I just took in the flabbergasted beings about me. The overwhelming feeling of self-hatred began to rise in my core, and I instantly felt horrible for making everyone sit in their own confusion. I attempted to calm my thoughts by sipping tea and trying to picture myself at home in my chair, staring out the window. Visualization worked often with me, after all, I was pagan, and the mind's eye was the center of the whole belief system, and I had taken to the practice when I felt apprehensive.

Chessur must have sensed my apprehension, for he sighed and lifted his tea cup. "It may be best to take her to the White Queen. She can tell us why she is here."

"You…you," I stammered. "You mean, I'm meant to be here?" I asked. Inside my voices pawed at me about how my stutter made me stupid.

"Indeed," Chessur replied. "Those from Above do not come to Underland without a purpose." He sipped his tea. "However, it is most unusual that McTwisp did not fetch you."

Thinking that I was beginning to understand, I stiffened my posture. "Does McTwisp always fetch others like me?" I asked.

"Oh, yes," the feline purred. "It is McTwisp's divine purpose in Underland; to usher in those from Above who are meant to be here."

"So, there are others like me, from Above?"

"Assuredly so. The most well-known being our dear Alice."

At the mention of Alice, everyone at the table perked up instantly and smiles went up. It struck me as odd that there had been other humans who had entered the same dream. Whatever Underland truly was, it had to be spiritually linked to more than just myself.

"Do you know Alice?" Mallymkun asked me with a smile.

I shook my head. "No, Mally, I don't. I'm sorry."

Mallymkun sighed, her ears drooping.

Tarrant then cleared his throat loudly. He swiped up his tea cup and chugged it with one gulp. He then tossed the tea cup over his shoulder, and then brought an exaggerating fist upon the table surface, causing the china to rattle. He grinned.

"You're right, Chess! Best to take her to the White Queen!"

Something inside me stirred at the mention of a queen. So, this place was under a monarchy.

Before I had a chance to say a word, Tarrant was at my side, and he grabbed my arm. I scooted from my chair and ruffled my dress.

"You'll like the White Queen," said Mally. "She's a real lady."

"Sweeter than sugar," chided Thackery. He was holding a scone in his hand and he stuck his tongue out as if it was an uncontrollable appendage. "Scone!" he declared before shoving the whole thing in his mouth. Seeing him eating made my stomach growl stridently.

"Oh, my," remarked Mally. "Have you not eaten?"

I bit my lip. The last thing I wanted was for these creatures to notice my size and connect it with the fact that I was hungry, as every human being back home seemed to do, and chastise me for it. "I'm afraid not," I replied, not willing to lie.

Mally then jumped on the table, scurried on all fours to Thackery's side of the table. She picked up a large scone, which was topped with whipped cream and a cherry, and she returned to me. "Here," she said, holding it up to me with her two tiny feet. "A friend should never go hungry."

"Friend?" I asked, raising a brow.

"'Course," sang Tarrant. "Anyone from Above is meant to be our friend, it's written on the Oraculum."

I gently took the scone from Mally, and thanked them all. I bit into it in a very ladylike manner. The scone itself was without doubt the most amazing thing I had ever tasted. It was soft on the outside, with a crunchy bottom, and the center contained a substance that was very similar to sweet Bavarian cream. It reminded me heavily of a doughnut, only much more pleasing to the taste buds. Tarrant and Chessur presumed to converse about how I surely had been written about on that thing they called the "Oraculum," and I took my time finishing my scone.

Mally took it upon herself to give me two more, and insisted that I have them for the journey to meet the White Queen, which, according to her, was quite a walk. I tried to decline the scones, but she insisted and was becoming angry so I took them and thanked her for her kindness.

Once Tarrant was done conversing with Chessur, he returned to me and patted my head.

"We must go if we are to make it there by sunset," he stated. "We will cut through Snud," he said proudly.

As I turned to say farewell, Tarrant took hold of my dress, and began to lead me away. Early dropped the scones Mall had given me, so I shoved one in my mouth and the other I clenched in my fist.

I found myself following Tarrant as he began to skip merrily like an excited school kid as we made our way along the rolling fields. He went about pointing to different trees and plants, and telling me about them. I hardly got any questions in, for he was so proud to show off his knowledge of all the different shrubbery and things.

Eventually the path wove back into the woods, which I was taught was known as the Tulgey Wood.

"Tarrant," I said as we strode along.

"Yes?" he asked. He wandered off the path a bit, and I stopped. He went to a bush that was covered in purple flowers.

"Why do you think I am here?" I asked honestly.

I watched as he bent down, and plucked one of the purple flowers. "I haven't the slightest idea."

You'd think that a man of his years- he looked to be in his late thirties- would be a little more concerned about a strange young woman who just happened to fall into his homeland, but then again, Tarrant seemed more the jester type than the concerned fatherly-like type. He was the complete opposite of my grandfather, who could be such an uptight asshole.

"That is why I am taking you to the White Queen," he explained as he prodded at the flower. "She knows all."

 _A queen who knows all, huh? Perhaps she can find a way to rid of my illness._

I was becoming comfortable around Tarrant, and my anxiety was at a low by this time. "Well, I'm excited to meet her," I said happily. "Hopefully she can sort this mess all out."

"Indeed!" he screeched at he took hold of my hand, and we began to skip down the path together.

Skipping proved to be much easier for me than I had presumed, for we skipped a good mile before he released me and slowed his gait. By this time it was well into the afternoon, and all I had managed to do since leaving home was discover than this place was called Underland and that it had a way of luring in people like me.

A good two hours crept by, and the landscape became stranger by the minute, and I took it all in like I was reading a picture book. Tarrant and I chattered away, and I learned that he was a hat maker- a Hatter, as called in Underland- and he promised me to make me a hat someday. I explained to him that I had always had a fascination with hats and that I had quite the small collection at home, which thrilled him to no end.

The Tulgey Wood began to thin out into section of small fields encased by trees. Tarrant had made the comment that we were only a few miles away from the White Queen's castle, which he said was at a place called Marmoreal.

We had been prancing along again, when we came to the opening to a vast field. Instantly the mood changed, and Tarrant halted. He scanned the field silently, and his energy changed all together. He acted as if something had bothered him and for a few moments, I couldn't think of what could have possibly ruined his jolliness.

Spread about the field were piles of planks of wood, furniture, clothing, dishware and a bunch of other household items, all charred from fire. It was a sight that took me back to when my neighbor's house had caught fire, and a sense of sadness seeped into me. I just stood at the edge of the field, slowly twiddling my fingers as Tarrant crept along the remnants.

A village, I guessed. Perhaps a village that Tarrant had once lived in?

I kept my eyes glued to the hat man as he took it all in. You could tell that he was remembering something by the way his face sulked and his eyes became misty. At one point, he wandered off, toward a fallen tree, and he sank to his knees. I was horrible at comforting other saddened humans- I couldn't even comfort myself- but I inched up to him, so as to not disturb whatever he was feeling.

Without a word, Tarrant slowly rose to his feet and turned to me.

His eyes, which were normally an emerald green color, were not the deepest shade of crimson. His lips were pursed and his nostrils were flared.

"Tarrant?" I asked.

"I'm sorry," he said flatly, now in a deep Scottish accent, "but I cannot help you."

He then trudged past me with heavy steps. I was really fucking confused.

I began to jog after him, the fallen leaves crunching beneath my bare feet. "Tarrant!" I called after him.

"I said I cannot help you!" he hissed.

As empathic as I was, his anger pulsed into me, and I halted my jogging. As he trudged off from me, I hoped with everything inside of me that he was just taking a minute to cool off, and he would come back.

Such was not the case.

He trudged at a hefty pace until he disappeared among the trees. My intuition told me that there would be no going after him.

 _Great job, fat ass, you chased him off!_ My illness said to me.

"Well, fuck!" I said to myself.

I then took notice of a house, about a hundred feet across the field, which was only half burned. The roof had caved in, and the top floor was gone, but most of the walls on the bottom floor were still standing. Still hoping that Tarrant would be coming back, I huffed a few breaths and I made my way to it.

The smell of burnt wood filled my nostrils as I neared the ruins.

It had been a grand house once, for what remained of the exterior was a pale blue color and had fancy trim. The door was blocked by fallen roof, but on the west side of the house, was a hole big enough to enter, so I did. I took care as to not step on any broken glass or rusty nails that could have been lying amongst the ruins. I had to walk and hold my skirt up, but it was something that was essential.

The floorboards creaked under my weight, yet none of them gave out on me. The house was bare of furniture and decorations save for a chair and one carpet I found. The only room that was still surrounded by four walls had in fact been the living room. It was at the very back of the house, and the windows, too, were still intact. Back home I was an avid explorer and I often found ways to sneak into abandoned buildings and explore them, so I was used to how run-down a structure could be.

Toward the entrance hole to the house, behind a door that had fallen in, I found an old, weathered trunk. It took some heaving, but once I freed it from the door, I managed to wrestle it open.

To my utmost surprise, I found a pair of boots!

An ugly pair of boots, at that.

They were a banana-yellow color and they had bright orange laces on them. They were a Victorian ankle-boot style and they were conspicuously used, but not in too bad of shape. Knowing that walking barefoot through the ruins was probably bad for my feet, I slid into the boots to find that they were a perfect fit. The heels on them were slightly taller than I was used to, but they weren't anything horrible.

Getting used to the sound of my click-clacking heels, I grabbed the rug I had found, and I dragged it back into the living room and placed it in front of the chair.

I was completely at a loss on what to do; Tarrant had gone and I was alone, stuck in Underland, which I didn't know shit about. There had to be predator-type creatures in Underland, after all, something had to be feared. I decided that the smartest thing to do was to hold up in the house until either Tarrant came back or someone found me.

As dark approached, I took it upon myself to rummage through as many homes as I could. It took me a few hours, but I managed to scrap up a jar of some sort of fruit jelly, an old messenger bag that the strap was broken on, old curtains, a knife that had a chip in the blade, an extra pair of shoelaces, a plate and a half-burnt taper candle. At first I suspected the candle to be the reason for the fire, but it had been tucked away in a cupboard. I gathered all the things and made my way back to the hideout I had made.

I knew squat about survival, but I was smart enough to figure things out.

I used the knife to slice the shoe laces into three sections. I braided them together and then tied them on the messenger bag, creating a makeshift strap. I would use this to carry the stuff in. The fruit jelly I could eat, obviously, and the curtains were big enough that they served as a decent sized blanket.

I don't know how I managed it, but I happened to light the candle with the strike of two small pebbles I found on the ground.

By the time dark fell, I had sprawled the curtains on the rug by the chair, and I was sitting upon them. The candle flickered at my side. I slid the boots off my feet and placed them by the messenger bag by my bedside. I opened the fruit jelly and sniffed it.

It smelled sweeter than any jelly I had ever smelled before, and it was a dark royal purple color. It definitely was not grape. It was thin enough that I didn't even have to worry about spooning it out; I could just dump some down my throat with a tip of the jar. The jelly, in all honesty, tasted more like Kool-Aid-flavored sugar. It was not a bad taste, it was just unique.

When I was full enough to withstand it, I had only consumed half of the jar, so I stuck it inside the messenger bag.

I was so tired that all I had to do was snuggle down and I yawned loudly. Could a person truly be this tired in a dream? I had no clue. All I knew was that I wrapped myself in the curtains, and I was fast asleep faster than anyone's business.


	5. Safe and Sound

~Safe and Sound~

*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*

The very minute my eyes opened, the first thing I took notice of was the bright ray of sunshine that shone through the top of the house ruins. From the floor, I could see vines growing on the caved-in roof, and the sun hit them brightly. I peeled myself up into a sitting position and I yawned.

I paused.

I had been sleeping, and now I was awake, and I was still in Underland.

This couldn't have been a dream.

Could it?

I sighed.

Tarrant had not returned, and I began to doubt that anyone really would be venturing out this far. I knew that the smartest thing to do was to pack up my stuff and head back toward Tarrant's house.

I took a big swig of fruit jelly as a sort of breakfast. I then set to work placing everything in the messenger bag. The curtains would not fit, so I bundled them up and tied them to the strap of the bag. The knife I slid down in my boot in case I needed to draw it.

I exited the house and looked every which way.

My anxiety began to build up as I discovered that I had completely forgotten which way we had come from. I had always been horrible with directions, and this situation proved that fact all too well. I took a deep breath, and closed my eyes. Like a real dork, I extended a finger out ward and spun three times. I counted my steps to twenty-five, and when I stopped, I opened my eyes and began to head in the direction my finger was pointing.

The Tulgey Wood seemed to stretch on for miles. Though I was well rested bodily, my mental state was still sleepy and my thought process felt slowed.

The sun rays shone through the trees, reflecting off the pools of fog that lingered in the divots in the earth. The air was chilly and had a crisp scent of wet leaves to it. The woods were no doubt beautiful and for once I wished I had my camera on me.

I thought of Tarrant as I traveled. What had upset him so? Surely it couldn't have been something I had done, yet my illness presumed to blame it on me otherwise. According to the depths of my own mentality, everything was my fault. When it rained at home, my fault, when Mystic got sick on the rug, my fault, when I had a rude customer at work, my fault.

With every mile I managed to walk, I became more and more thankful for the boots I had found, no matter how ugly they might have been.

I kept at a pace that was between a power-walk and a jog. As much as I wanted to explore more of the Tulgey Wood, I knew that searching for people (or even talking animals) was the smartest thing to do. In a sense, you could say that I really wanted to go home, and, yet, the fact that I was far away in a place where the cruelty of society could not touch me was a fact that I held kind of dear. Whether or not this Underland place was a dream or not, it was like my own personal escape from reality.

After hours of walking, the woods thinned and soon there was only a tree here-and-there, rather than being completely surrounded by them.

I stopped beneath a large tree and ate some fruit jelly, salvaging the last little bit in case I didn't find help in time.

I started walking again, and I began to hum tunes to myself.

No longer in the Tulgey Wood, I discovered a gravel path that was like a straightway that cut into the vast hills that lay sprawled out before me. The land consisted of lush green grass, accented with bushes and flowers. It reminded me of any regular lawn back home in New York.

Sighing to myself, I looked over my shoulder at the dark essence and twisting branches of the Tulgey Wood. I had come so far in one day; there was no use in turning back now. I had to face it; I would have to keep moving until I discovered a being I could converse with.

I shifted the messenger bag on my shoulder and began to advance forward.

My feet began to hurt after a couple more hours went by, and I was growing tired of walking.

Happiness soon found me in the form a small wooden road sign. When I caught wind of it, I jogged right up to it, and took no time in reading it.

Well, attempting to read it, that was, for the sign was old and weathered.

And was blank.

"Why the fuck is it blank?" I asked myself aloud.

I smacked a dumbfounded hand to my forehead and sighed. I literally was about to give up hope when, in the very corner of my eye, I noticed a thin line of smoke rising from over the nearest hill, and pouring into the sky, which was plastered with the colors of dusk.

"Finally," I hissed, trudging for the hill with an attitude.

Setting my eyes upon a small cabin, I smiled to myself.

 _People!_

I was cautious as I approached.

The cabin was small, constructed of thick wooden planks and had a large, stone chimney protruding from the very center of the roof. Off to the left of the cabin was a small barn, with a pasture that contained an older-looking horse, a cow and a few piglets. If I knew a farm, and trust me, I knew farms, for I lived on one, this was probably the realest-looking farm in Underland.

I could see candlelight flickering inside one of the windows. But there was no movement of beings inside.

Mustering what little courage I could, and huffing through my anxiety, I approached the cabin as silently as I could manage. The only sound was the sound of the heels of my boots against the graveled path.

"Oi!" rang out a voice when I drew close to the cabin. "Who goes there?"

I halted dead in my tracks, and squeezed the makeshift strap of the messenger bag in my hands. I swallowed hard and I was pretty sure that whoever was in the distance could hear it.

"Well!" hissed a deep female voice.

"Um…. Hi!" I called back. "My name's Kateen."

A shadow slithered from somewhere behind the cabin and it stretched across the path in the moonlight. A figure of a woman wearing a long gown made its way from the shadows, and I heard the sound of boots as they stepped heavily onto the path. I shuddered for a moment and hoped that whoever this was, that they'd be docile.

An older woman with the blackest hair I had ever seen came into view. By the small dimples in her face, I took her to be in her late forties, maybe. Her hair was curled and looked as if she had pinned it up months ago and had just left it that way. Her gown was of an old style, made up of a corset and a long flowing skirt.

"What are you doing here, girl?" the woman hissed.

I tightened my hands around the strap. "I….I….I," I stammered embarrassingly.

"Well?" the woman insisted, raising a dark brow.

I sighed. "I'm lost."

The woman then, without warning, grabbed hold of my shoulders, and spun me around in a circle, her eyes traveling over every inch of me. I was hoping she wasn't judging me by my size.

"Lost, you say?" she asked lowly. "Yes, it appears you are."

She then muttered something about porridge to herself, and then beckoned me to follow her into the cabin. I followed the strange woman obediently.

The very instant I stepped foot into the cabin, the smell of something cooking hit my nostrils hard, and I impulsively inhaled deeply and hummed in a content tone. I scanned the cabin. There was not much to it. Oddly, the hearth was placed dead-center in the middle, rather than in the corner like most wood stoves or fireplaces. There was a harvest table with four chairs, a bed in the far corner with a trunk tucked against the bottom of it. On the floor before the hearth was an animal skin rug. It was cozy, in a poverty kind of way.

The woman crossed the cabin to the trunk by her bed, and she whipped the top open. She reached inside, withdrew a small flask, uncapped it, and took a big swig, belching when she was done.

Standing awkwardly in the doorway, I removed the messenger bag and set it by the door.

The woman raised the flask to her lips, then paused, turning her dark eyes on me.

"Well, don't just stand there like a fool," she barked. "Sit!"

While she was busy drinking, I made my way to the table and sat in a chair. When she finished whatever she was drinking, she came to me and stared down at me.

My eyes met hers, and she pursed her lips. Her expression then softened and her face rested.

"I'm not used to guests," she said softly.

I nodded slowly, my eyes wandering from her stare, which seemed to bear into my very soul.

With a new found gusto, she crossed the room to the hearth, her skirts gliding across the wooden floor behind her. She then scooped something from a cauldron that dangled about the fire, and brought it to me.

"Fresh outta the smoke house," she said, handing it to me. "Tuck in!"

I smiled. "Thank you," I said, taking the bowl from her.

She served herself some of the food and plopped in a chair across from me. With her fork, she dug in her bowl until she hooked a big chunk of meat, and shoved it in her mouth. I did the same, discovering that the porridge was delicious.

"What did you say your name was?" the woman asked between bites.

I swallowed the piece of what I recognized to be beef and licked my lips gently. "Kateen," I replied. "I'm from Above." I ate another chunk of meat from my bowl.

The woman then paused. "I say," she remarked. "An Abovelander. I should have known. The years have me forgetful and unobservant," she explained to me.

She then continued to eat.

For some odd reason, I couldn't help but think that the woman looked oddly familiar, like I had seen her before. I didn't really care about whom she was, she had brought me in out of the night and had given me food. She was on the boundaries of establishing a small friendship with me, in my own mind.

"What's your name?" I asked.

She then set her empty bowl down on the table, wiped her hand on the back of her lace-gloved hand, and smacked her lips together contently. "Tuft's the name," she said proudly.

"Missus Tuft?" I asked curiously.

"Um, no," she replied, "just Tuft."

I became very curious about the woman called Tuft, and I yearned to learn more about her.

Tuft began to yawn loudly. She then brought a foot up and laid it across her side of the table. At first I was appalled, I had been taught to always keep my feet away from the table at all times, and yet, this woman acted as if she didn't give a single shit. I liked that about her. She then reached into a pocket in her skirt, pulled out a tooth pick, and instead of picking her teeth with it, she began to clean underneath her fingernails with it.

"So," she said, breaking the silence after a few minutes. "Why have you come to Underland?"

I finished the last bite of my porridge and slid the empty bowl from out in front of me. "I honestly have no fucking clue," I replied bluntly.

Tuft gave a grunt and her lips formed a sly smirk. "And you probably never will, either," she said. "How is it you came here?"

I threw my elbows on the table and cradled my head in my hands. "I fell down a glowing pit."

Tuft then stopped and furrowed her brows. "A hole? You mean that godforsaken rabbit didn't bring you here?" she asked in a high-pitched tone.

I then presumed to tell her the rendition of how I had fallen down that eerie goddamned hole in my basement. She listened to me intently, not once taking her eyes off me. When my story was finished she clicked her tongue like a disappointed mother would at her naughty child.

"Well, well, well, I special case," she commented. She then leaned back in her chair again and returned to picking at her nails. "It would be best to go to the White Queen."

I sighed. Everyone talking about the White Queen, yet no one seemed to want to help me reach her properly. "Well, I was on my way to meet the White Queen," I told Tuft. "But the man who was escorting me- he called himself Tarrant- left me dumbstruck in the middle of the Tulgey Wood."

"Hightopp?" Tuft asked. "Oh, yeah, that sounds like him."

Just then, Tuft slid from her chair, folded her arms over her body, and went to the nearest window and looked out longingly. "I suppose I could take you to Marmoreal myself," she spoke. "But I have harvesting to do."

An idea struck me.

"I grew up on a farm," I informed her. "What if I helped you harvest? Then you could take me to the queen when we were done," I offered.

Tuft remained silent for several moments. She then whirled on her heel to face me.

"Kateen, you've got yourself a deal."


End file.
